Pzob's Open Terrain

******
Dread Lord Havok, the seer, the pathfinder, the mystical shaman of the eye- he had spent days and weeks peering into the depths of the nexus.  His sightless eyes collapsing the barriers of time and space, to see the end of the Order.  To see it wither into dust, betrayed, sold, and perished.  His screams echoed through the force and broke upon the moment like a bottle cast upon this distant shore.  
*****

Many years previously...



In the foul depths of the temple....



In the silence of the darkness...
Years prior, Havok saw this.  In meditation he stretched his hand forth into the nexus and set himself against these heathens for whom the true path and way of the sith had been lost.  The order of teh Eye would survive. It had to!   The damage they did to the nexus was echoing back in time.

****
They attack the nexus
******
the power of the interlopers was too strong, and Havok knew the nexus could not resist forever.  its hunger consumed Havok as it would all others.  Havok attempted to channel his connection to all life nearby, to drain it, to offer it to the nexus as a sacrifice, to feed it, to somehow keep it safe from these blasphemers from the future.  In a final act of despiration, Havok began letting the nexus feed off of his own power.  the strain began to rot and desicate havok's flesh.  Physical weakness of such a change began to consume his body even as his power in the force flared; as if the transformation of the physical into the pure power of the force yielded exponential energy on par with the detonation of hydrogen bombs, metaphorically. 

havok judged that it was too late for him- he would not survive the quickening as his lifeforce began to swirled in the vortex of the nexus.  
Havok stretched his hand forward, even as it wasted away, determined to exist long enough to destroy those that sought to defile the temple, or destroy the nexus in the future. 


Havok, reached into the Nexus and felt the collapsed stone of the crypt that had been allowed to languish.  With all of his hate and anger, his power detonated.  For a moment, the force undid the bonds between atoms, re-aranging matter and material, hallowing a massive area of ground in a soup of pure force energy. 

Havok, was consumed, existing only as a pure conscious will of darkside intent, bridging his present time and the unholy attackers in the future.  the massive energy unleashed suspended the existence of both moments in time in a superposition.  Both moments existed and ceased to exist simultaniously. 

*****
They collapse the nexus and time passes, possibly years.
Perhaps they heard whispered screaming. like the faint high pitched sound on the edge of your consciousness.
*****

in superposition, Havok's existence was timeless.  In conventional passage of time, events happen spacialy and in sequence.  No such rules apply to the pure expression of the force, swirling in its malestroms. What the heathens did not comprehend, was that this nexus was not one nexus, but multiple swirling votexes of the force occupying mulitple places in time and space.  To attempt to destroy it would require closing the nexus in all of time and space, healing the wounds.  only jedi had mastered such healing powers.  


in a flash of swirling force, both the past and present were superimposed over each other connected by the nexus as if it were a portal. 
"I WILL END YOU!" 
The screams of rage burst forth, statements of pure malevolent will, bending reality to the shape sought with single purpose.   Within the diamiter of the force storm, the temple stonework was transformed and restored to its prior glory.  
"I WILL PREVAIL!"  
A being of energy began to condence from the energy.  The being was like a hole in the force, bending light around it, pulling in the shadows, feeding on the darknesss, sucking the life force from creatures great and small in the vicinity. 
"BOW BEFORE THE GLORY OF THE DREAD SEER!"
The voice shouted in rapture now, beginning to feel the bodily sensation of existance once again. A body full of power. 
The Dark shadow took a step forward, attempting to leave the nexus...

The Storm gripped the figure as if refusing to let him leave. Like a black hole event horizon he struggled to retain his individuality after merging with such overwhelming power and being. 
"WE ARE ONE!" it seemed to say.
"NO, I AM HAVOK, DREAD LORD OF THE NEW ORDER OF THE EYE, MASTER OF SIGHT AND SHADOW, HIGH LORD AND SEER!"
"JOIN with the VOID!"

Havok's body was perfectly restored but began wasting away again as Havok began taking slow single steps forward, tearing himself away from the pull of the dark tendrals of the nexus. He needed to sever his connection with the nexus, if he hoped to live.

Havok reach for his lightsaber, but it had been consumed, along with his cloths. Pulling the force around his forearm, into a force weapon, havok turned his hand into a blade and chopped at the tenticles.  each second, stole more of his precious restored youth away from him. 

Finally, Havok broke free and stumbled forward, reaching the opposite wall with an exhausted grunt. 

Turning, his naked back felt the cold stone wall.  His chest was heaving as if he hadn't breathed in eons. he slid to the floor exhausted, gazing at the stablized nexus... which he had the distinct impression was gazing back at him. 

every muscle felt drained and Unable to go on, Havok was overcome by sleep. 

The Sith Catacombs.
Havok reached a small alcove, in the long straight halls containing the tombs of numerous sith. There was another bag of weakly glowing crystals in the alcove that caste faint light on the walls. The dark, dank, dusty, dirty and decrepit atmosphere was one that spoke of many centuries lying undisturbed. The ceilings were low and cobwebs were everywhere. Every 10 feet or so, would be a small indent in the wall where a sith sarcophagus or casket was shoved in the wall.

He reached his favorite grave, Darth Hugo.

Farther up the hallway, Havok could see several dead bodies of sith archaeologists lay where they fell, slain by traps. The grave they lay by was tampered with, but it was evident that they never got as far as Darth Hugo. That was well and good.

"Well, my friend, it seems they have not reached you yet."

*Havok patted the Sarcophogus and focused his mind. He knew there were traps, but for some reason at the moment he couldn't see them. He closed his eyes again, and the physical world melted away showing the flow of the force. The force followed the outline of the lid, and the fulcums where the lid was attached to a mechanism that held up the stone in the hallway. Failure to remove the lid properly would cause a deadly cave-in.

Havok attempted to use the force to manipulate a small lever that would give him access to the coffin, but the force failed him. He was still weak, like a baby, thrust into existence. Mustering his strength and focus, he managed.
The stone slide aside and the desiccated corpse of an ancient sith lord lay in the faint light.

The body was of a dead warlord draped in a cloak and armor, with a rusted vibrosword across his chest, and a primitive lightsaber in his hand like a septer.

Havok hoped the body would be wrapped in a cloth or with a cloak, to keep out the chill. In his weakened state, Havok stood a good chance of succuming to the unnatural chill in the temple.

"Forgive me, friend, I have need of your... trinkets." he paused, "Don't look at me like that! I am naked, and you are dead."
The grinning skull seemed to be understanding.

Havok had no use for armor, the leather was rotted, and the cloth falling apart. He stripped the body of cloak, shroud, and lining, and took the bits that didn't crumb to dust and began wrapping them and trying them to his body. he found enough rags to wrap his feet and hands. A cloak or loin cloth would have to wait.

HAAAVOK! The nexus called out.

Havok looked behind him to see the nexus throbbing, hungering for him. Havok needed to move further to avoid being consumed. He looked the other way, deeper into the Catacombs.

Havok knew there was plenty to fear down here besides the Nexus. The cold, Traps, pitfalls, and... spirits of the damned, tied to this place... Any one of them might kill him in his weakened state.

Havok huffed with exertion. Perhaps he had misjudged the delicacy of his personal state. He had perhaps overestimated the strength he could muster both physically, and in the force.
He had progressed painfully, carefully through the crypt halls, avoiding traps and pitfalls. Doing so seemed to drain him more than it ever had. It seemed to require all his focus to do so. Further it was even more draining to loot coffins to attempt to find any clothing to protect his nakedness.

"Why the devil does every sith acolyte need a coffin, let alone a booby trap to protect it?"

He had finally discovered a sarcophagus with a shroud well preserved enough that Havok could wear it as a cloak, as well as fashion himself a loincloth from other scraps of material present.

He had pushed himself to keep moving to generate heat. but now He wrapped himself tightly in his cloak and sat upon the ground, comfortable enough, for the first time, to stop moving for a moment to think.  Though he had previously wrapped his hands and feet in rags, they were numb. He was likely on the verge of hypothermia. He had no idea how long he had been struggling in the darkness and dim light of crystals, and he believed he had to escape this place to survive.

"Where am I?"

The thought occurred to him as if for the first time. He knew he was in the crypt under the Temple on Pzob. He had been here many times, explored the miles of halls, chambers and caverns. He knew the Nexus, he had meditated on it many times. He knew the place of Darth Hugo, he had passed it many times. But in his struggle to fight the cold and find warm rags, Havok had managed to lose himself in passages that were unfamiliar to him, accessed by a route that he could not recall. It was that, or Havok was perhaps mentally impaired by cold or exhaustion.

This realization that his mental faculties could be failing him... Distressing was an overstatement. He could feel panic rising. He had existed, created himself, and molded his very power as a sith lord by honing his mind and focus; to out-think , out-plan, out-wit, and out-maneuver his opponents. And here in this place, the idea that his mind might be failing him was enough to get his adrenaline flowing. Like an animal seeing the stalking predator that will finally kill him, Havok felt a burst of energy from his base corporeal body. He rose to his feet. He had to rely on everything he had. His body still sustained him, even if he presently lacked sufficient focus to channel the force.

His mind raced.
The fear would cloud his mind, wear him out quicker as he panicked. The increased blood flow to his extremities would make his body ready for a fight, but further lower his core body temperature.
Havok trembled. He wanted to run. Run as fast as he could until he saw something in a hall that helped him regain his barrings. Once he knew where he was he could escape this place.
But there were traps everywhere. In this unrecognized place he did not know where the traps were and would have to proceed carefully.
He was weak, and was struggling to call upon the force. If there was life nearby, he could drain it, channel it, and use it to sustain himself- but in this place of death and decay, living beings had long quit these halls. Only the dead remained.

Perhaps he was in a familiar place and disoriented due to the toll of the elements, the strain, the nexus, and this pinnacle of the dark side...

Havok slew that thought where it stood. If it was true then he would indeed die here.  If it was not true, then it was it wasn't worth the neuron action potentials firing in his brain to think it. 

Havok slowly proceeded through the passage, using all the powers he could muster to avoid potential traps. 

The mist at this point had grown, until it thickened and made physical sight impossible. After painstakingly continuing to move through the dangerous halls of the crypt for what felt like hours, Havok reached the end of the hall. It stopped with a plain sheer wall.

Havok banged his cloth-wrapped fist on the wall in frustration.

Escaping this trap infested death-hole wouldn't be difficult if he had full use his force powers. He still had not regained full potency since his re-animation. Furthermore, he wasn't sure what using his force powers would do to him, right now. Since his merger with the force nexus and expulsion back into existence, he had gained use of his physical eyes and discovered he had sight. In the past, when drawing on the dark side in extreme circumstances, Havok inadvertently ended up drawing from his own life-force and causing his body to age and decay, as if being consumed and corrupted by the excessive dark side power being channeled through him. In his weakened state, unrestricted use of his force powers might be an act of suicide.

"You have not risked your life in a long time. You have not felt yourself quickened by danger. You have relied on others, minions, to fight your battles."

Havok came to in a start. His eyes focusing on the ethereal form.

"You, you are not a force ghost." he tried to size up the entity addressing him.

The form ignored his statement. "You have not felt the desperation of life on the edge. You have become estranged from the darkness, and estranged from death."

"What?! How dare you!" Havok felt his cheeks grow hot with the accusations.

"Seer, You have contemplated the future so long that you have forgotten yourself; who you are, here, now. When was the last time you killed in anger, rather than to bring about another plan you had foreseen?"

A dark lord of the sith, suffering the rebuke of a- a ghost? a spirit? It didn't matter. The mere idea was preposterous! Feeling the anger warming his blood, Havok rose to his feet, his naked form cloaked in rags stolen from the dead.

"You are so afraid of death, you have become its slave rather than its master." The form continued.

The chiding of this nebulous host was becoming tiresome. Havok raised his hand, palm out, to halt the speech. "I command you-"

"None but a TRUE dark lord may command me!" The Form interrupted Havok.

"Like your old master at the end, A FRAUD, you have become." The form gathered in the mist and fog, condensing it into the visage of Havok's old master, Lord Nobra, for an instant before diffusing again.

"Silence!" Havok's command hissed and stilled the air and drained the air of energy of soundwaves. Such power usually aided an assassin. "I have mastered powers Nobra could not imagine, let alone dream of. I surpassed him, and trained my apprentice to murder him. He could not foresee or stop me!"

And yet you struggle to locate traps? Find your way in a crypt? Will you yet awaken?

"I will not allow a ghost goad me into expending my power to the point I can no longer sustain my body and life. I have... I have" Havok felt his breath rise in his chest suddenly realizing that he had not been straining for breath as he had in the previous years. He previously had required himself to constantly drain and expend the force to halt the unnatural decay of his own body due to the effects of mastering the darkest perverse mysteries of dark side sight: The power to kill with a look. With the unnatural decay undone, perhaps at the same time that his natural bodily eyeballs were restored, Havok was free to use the force in a way that was uncoupled from depleting his own life force.

"We can, and shall. You have spent 3 days creeping through these crypts becoming lost and weaker. You cannot find your way because you have lost yourself."

Havok felt the dark side begin to flow through him with a potency he hadn't experienced in years. "Yet here I am. Speaking in lies and riddles or pretending to have my best interests at heart will not divert me."

Ah, he begins to remember. We care not for your interests, we merely repay our debt. You saved us. As you shall save yourself.

"I do not regularly make a habit of saving anyone, nor allow debts to accumulate without collection before death."

Then allow me to prophesy thus: You will fully remember yourself within the hour, or we shall both die.

Havok gritted his teeth, finally done with the conversation. "I do not bandy words with foolish ghosts, who pretend to grasp the length or breadth of my destiny. Perhaps shall I crush you now and frustrate your designs for my doom."

In that case, our champion shall fight for us. Excrussis, RISE! The mist cleared to reveal a twisted apparition of a female climb from the dirt beneath the flagstones of the crypt. She is, and always has been, our champion. The force form dissipated into the mist after summoning Excrussis.

Havok was surprised, but didn't show it. Excrussis was the name of his own apprentice. He raised her up from the slave yards on Hostus IV, and trained her in secret, until she assassinated Darth Nobra. She constantly served as his right hand... until his encounter with, or attempt to save the force nexus.

He peered into the darkness to confirm if it was indeed her, his old apprentice, that he would be facing...

She resisted his Dun Moch and countered with her own. "My spirit is more than capable of defeating you." She pressed on, going deeper into the crypt, entering the next room. Holding her lightsaber high for light, she saw a circular room, with a dome ceiling. The walls packed with trinkets and treasures. The treasures are all obvious traps, to kill grave robbers. The light of her light saber reflected off of many curiously hewn crystals, that began to glow, and brightened to fill the room with light. A small altar sat in the middle of the room with offerings of burnt incense, dried cups of blood, and dried Psob raisins. On the opposite wall, passed the altar, was another doorway to a hall.

"I learned much after you were gone." She waited hoping Havok would attempt to use the force to further echo his voice around her. She listened in silence.

The walls above the piles of treasure were painted in beautiful tableaux. One scene gave her pause. It showed a man riding a two legged monster creature. The rider had lightning coming from his eyes, striking down numerous foes. The lightening stretched above the rider into the sky. The lightening reached into space and touched a capital ship; melting into slag that dropped on the foes like a meteor shower.

Only one individual she knew ever did such a thing. She knew this tomb. It was not ancient. It was created by the New Order of the Eye for one of the five Dark Lords of the Sith. It was created years after Havok vanished.

Excrussis spun, striking with her lightsaber. And hit nothing. Disappointingly, nothing was there.

"I was right to teach you to be wary of love. It seems you finally learned." As an apprentice, Havok had attempted to beat emotions like love out of her, occasionally using romance to manipulate her heart and breaking it to make her more resistant to kindness.

Excrussis angrily marched forward passed the altar and through the doorway beyond. The doorway led into a long hall. The hall forked in two directions. The walls were carved in dark funeral scenes.

She needed to draw him out. She needed to be clever. "You always were a stealthy one, but so am I." she thought. The ghostly figure pulled her cloak over her armor, and her hood over her head. She would continue this battle of words and wills from the shadows. She looked down at the light saber in her hands. She smiled and deactivated it.
The tomb plunged into darkness.

"You made me earn a light saber. You forced me to kill with my hands" She returned to her barbs about his training.

"A sith that can only kill with a light saber; his light saber becomes his weakness."

"But where is your saber now? You run and hide from me like a child."

"I... misplaced my lightsaber." Havok admitted. His voice wavered almost imperceptibly. Excrussis felt his presence for a moment and took the left fork of the hallway towards it.

"I have it now. I am far more worthy of its blade than you." No answer.
 
You were a seer, yet you never taught me sight. You feared I would surpass you. So you forced me to learn combat." She pushed harder with her Dun Moch. No answer.

"And I have surpassed you ten-fold. You hide because in a fair fight I would crush you."

"Perhaps." Havok's voice was cold, as if answering all of her prior comments. "Perhaps I only needed a tool to kill for me, far more than I needed a second pair of eyes."
Havok's presence was gone again, but Excrussis continued down the left hallway towards his last position.

Excrussis held her Lightsaber hilt at the ready as she entered with stealth. She was prepared to strike with the tiniest indication of Havok's position.

A tiny glimmer of light shone on the center of the pentagonal room with an open black stone sarcophagus. A lid, carved with Havok's likeness, lay against the side. On each of the five walls of the room was a throne. Four of the stylized thrones had a carving of Havok's fellow dark lords: Wrath, Famine, Madness and Death. Their statues watched over the seer, in eternal contemplation of his prophecies. The fifth throne, slightly elevated in a gesture of honor, was empty; showing the gap that Havok left in the New Order of the Eye. Other than the open lid laying next to Havok's sarcophagus, the room was undisturbed. There was no sign of Havok.

"Are you not LISTENING? Sight was never your gift." Havok's voice echoed around her in the chamber.

"I knew your voices would teach you, but I had to show you how to listen." Havok was engaged and using Dun Moch again. The air around her seemed to shimmer with Havok's voice. "The voices in your head; I told you what they meant, who they were." Havok's voice was gone, echoing all around her again.